


Mind is a Prison

by SpiderShell



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Gen, Protective Steve Rogers, Sequenced Bucky Barnes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 11:01:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28919469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpiderShell/pseuds/SpiderShell
Summary: “HYDRA wants you back,” Mr. Smith said, lowering his voice as the door slammed shut, windows were sealed, and gas began to fill the building. A light blinked on, illuminating the man’s face. “And theywillhave you back.”Bucky’s heart thudded, and he took a death, desperate breath, fighting to hold while trying to spring to the door. It was getting harder and harder to see, and he tripped over a broken floorboard, causing his mouth to fly open in a gasp.He was unconscious before he hit the ground.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	Mind is a Prison

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning:** this fanfic is uncanon in the fact that I chose for Bucky to not go to Wakanda after the events of Captain America: Civil War. Please do not flame me 🤣🤣

Bucky breathed hard and fast as he sprinted down the sandy trail, pumping his arms. Looking down, he took note of his pace - 1:26 - and eyed the dial on his watch. It was almost time to turn around and head back. Music booming in his ears, Bucky let himself just be, and for a moment, he felt almost happy, almost forgot the guilt that was humming its relentless tune in the depths of his soul. _Think about what you did,_ his mind whispered to him, but today, Bucky was strong enough to silence it. 

As his eyes casually swept from one side of the path to the other, taking in the sights of the gorgeous autumn trees, he noticed an abandoned building half-hidden behind thick trees deeper into the forest on his left. A logo was nailed to the center of the front; it was mostly covered over by dust, dirt, and leaves, so all Bucky could make out was the head of something, surrounded by a circle. 

Bucky felt a strange feeling in his stomach as he left the path and drew closer to the building, pausing his watch. “Calm down,” he told himself with annoyance. “It’s an empty building.” The feeling only grew stronger as he got closer, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d have called it a danger sense. Ever since he had been captured by HYDRA in the ’40s and taken to a desolate/deserted/etc. Laboratory in the middle of the mountains, he had a phobia of warehouse-type buildings. He knew it was stupid, but still….

His real, flesh-and-blood fingers brushed against the rusted door handle. He jerked them back involuntarily, almost expecting to be shocked by an electric current, but when nothing of the sort happened, he sucked in a deep breath, gathered his courage, and pushed the door open. It grumbled and groaned as the old hinges moved, stiff with age and disuse. 

As he had expected (and was now mentally rolling his eyes at), the building was empty. Feeling stupid over giving in to his fears, he walked to the center just to make sure, listening to the sounds of rats squeaking and scurrying in the roof above and the crackle of his heavy leather boots on the dirt covering the once-clean floor. _It’s quiet,_ he thought to himself. _Almost too quiet._ Seconds later, he mentally slapped himself. _Get over it. There’s nothing here._

“Well, well.” An almost false accent rang out in the building. 

Bucky spun around to see a man standing into the doorway of the warehouse, hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Ah, James Barnes,” he said with a confident smile, sunglasses covering his eyes. “So nice to see you here.”

Clenching and unclenching his vibranium fist tightly, Bucky stared at the man. “Should I know who you are?”

Sighing, the man looked at the sleeves of his suit and brushed them off. “No,” he said, almost casually, “but _I_ know _you._ When you still worked for HYDRA, I was the one who created and administered your medicine.” A sinister tone sunk into his words and Bucky took a step backward, suddenly aware that there was no other way out of the building. He may not have recognized the man, but he knew _exactly_ what “medicine” he was referring to. The thought made his blood run cold like ice. His body suddenly felt weak as he remembered what had been done to him -

“You can call me Mr. Smith,” the man announced, pulling an oxygen mask over his face. ‘If HYDRA had their way, I doubt you’ll remember it.’

Bucky’s face blanched white. 

“HYDRA wants you back,” Mr. Smith said, lowering his voice as the door slammed shut, windows were sealed, and gas began to fill the building. A light blinked on, illuminating the man’s face. “And they _will_ have you back.”

Bucky’s heart thudded, and he took a death, desperate breath, fighting to hold while trying to spring to the door. It was getting harder and harder to see, and he tripped over a broken floorboard, causing his mouth to fly open in a gasp. 

He was unconscious before he hit the ground. 

* * *

Someone was hammering on Bucky’s head. “Go ‘way,” he mumbled, trying to return to the quiet bliss of blackness. His subconscious slowly returned to alertness, however, and his eyes opened, feeling like they had been glued shut for years. 

“Hello there, James,” a voice said to him. “You’re just in time.”

Bucky blinked up through bleary eyes, seeing someone standing over him. _Mr. Smith,_ his mind registered. 

“Remember this?” Mr. Smith continued, holding up a vial of red liquid. 

Fear stabbed deep into Bucky’s heart, and he tried to move away from the serum, but quickly found himself to be immovably trussed to a chair that was welded to the ground. Even with his super strength, there was no way to escape. He thrashed desperately as Mr. Smith drew closer, fighting to escape with every cell in his body. “Please, please, please, no!” he begged his voice almost completely muffled by a gag over his face. His eyes opened wide in terror. “Please, not again. Please.” 

“I can’t hear you,” Mr. Smith mocked, bringing the vial before Bucky’s eyes. 

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying his best to fight the rising terror with him. _He’s going to turn me into a monster!_ his mind screamed. 

He gasped, giving an alarming cry through the thick fabric of the gag as Mr. Smith inserted a needle into his prisoner’s neck. 

“Don’t worry,” Mr. Smith said, “it won’t hurt for long. You can feel it, right? Breaking down all your defenses?” He grinned, watched as Bucky’s eyes widened and tensed, relaxing limply into the chair within seconds. 

“And you know what the best part is? That you know _exactly_ what’s coming, that you can feel the agony of the medicine working through your veins. That you know that you will bow before me and do my every bidding before this day is over.” He looked at the waning sun and then turned glittering teeth on Bucky. “You are mine.”

Mr. Smith snapped his fingers in front of Bucky’s face, his wide eyes, and upon eliciting no response, smiled. “There we go,” he purred. “Atta boy.” Retrieving a small black notebook from an inner pocket of his coat, he cleared his throat. 

_No!_ Bucky thought, completely paralyzed. _He didn’t wipe my memory!! I’ll remember what I did when I snap out!!_

“желание, ржавые, семнадцать, pассвете, печи, девять,” Mr. Smith said in a loud, clear voice, lifting his head after every word to stare at Bucky, “доброкачественные, возвращение на родину, один, грузовой автомобиль."

It felt like someone was tearing his mind out from the inside; blackness started to creep along the edges of his vision.

_“And they put me back in my cell_

_All by myself_

_Alone with my thoughts again….”_

With a soundless, motionless sob, Bucky realized that his music was still playing, one earphone still in his ear. He focused on the tune, using all his willpower to resist the trigger words.

_“Guess my mind is a prison_

_And I’m never gonna get out…”_

The pressure was too much. Bucky gave in. 

* * *

Bucky was aware, yet not aware. His mind felt like it was floating, bobbing in an ocean of consciousness, disconnected from his body. He was moving, standing up, and it felt like he was a puppet and someone else was controlling his movements. His vision was blurry, slowly going clear, and he found himself standing face-to-face with Mr. Smith. 

“You will hunt down the Rogue Avengers and destroy them all, leaving none alive.”

Part of Bucky’s mind told him that this was wrong, but the colder, controlling part of him responded, “Yes, sir.” 

As he spun on his heel to walk out the door, the Bucky was overwhelmed and drowned by the murderous Winter Soldier. 

* * *

Steve told himself that he wouldn’t do it. He’d promised Bucky that he wouldn’t track him; he’d give him his space.

However, logic told Steve that it was Bucky’s first time outside alone since they had fought against the Avengers who chose to sign the Sokovia Accords. Logic told him that it was safer for him to know where his friend was in case something happened.  
So he did.

When the arrow representing his friend’s position diverted off the path, stopped, and then began moving far more quickly than Bucky could run, Steve knew something was wrong. With barely a thought, he threw on a hood and took off on a motorcycle.  
Steve followed the GPS signal to a rundown warehouse in the middle of the woods. Turning off the motorbike, he slunk through the shadows toward the door, stopping every few meters to check that he wasn’t been followed. Call him paranoid, but something wasn’t right.

As Steve reached out his hand to the door, it flew open, nearly knocking him over. He lunged to this side just in time to see Bucky stalk through the doorway, fists balled and breathing heavily.

“Buck?” he said hesitantly.

When his friend turned to face him, Steve’s heart sunk at the look of violent anger and aggression on Bucky’s face. He held out his hands before him. “Hey, it’s me.”

“You,” Bucky growled. A flicker of recognition appeared in his eyes, quickly swallowed up by the drive to obey his orders. He leapt at Steve and pushed him up against the wall of the building, hand around his neck. His eyes, burning with hostility, narrowed as he tightened his grip. 

“Bucky, what are you doing?” Steve gasped, his hands scrabbling at Bucky’s. “Snap out of it! Come on, Buck!” His throat burned, and black spots danced at the edges of his vision. “Bucky, _please.”_ His voice was desperate.  
For a moment, Bucky showed slight hesitation.

“Do you remember Christmas Eve when we were eleven?” Steve whispered hoarsely. “You came up with the idea to hide on the edge of the sidewalk in the dark and throw snowballs at random people walking past.” He exhaled with a smile. “We were grounded for a week after that.”

Bucky’s hand shook.

“And the time when my parents died, and I had no one but you? You’re my best friend, Bucky. You were there for me then, and I’ll be here for you now. Please, listen to my voice and not the one in your head. Take back control. You can do it.” Steve’s eyelids dropped. _No, no! Stay conscious!!_

Bucky dropped him, and Steve fell to his knees, gasping for breath and clutching his neck with his hands. “Thank you,” he said quietly, glancing at his friend.

Eyes wide with the horror of what he had almost done, Bucky stared at him for a moment. “I’m sorry,” he said before sprinting into the woods.

Steve was up in a flash and following him.

* * *

Steve’s heart broke when he saw his best friend, one of the strongest people he had ever known, leaning up against a fallen tree, curled in a ball.

“Hey, Buck,” he said softly.

Bucky struggled to lift his head, exhausted, and squinted up at Steve in confusion. “What’re you doing here?”

“Rescuing you, of course,” Steve replied easily, flashing a reassuring smile. 

Bucky frowned, shying away from Steve as he approached. “No.”

Steve paused. “Hey, it’s okay. Everything is gonna be alright. I’m gonna get you out of here-” 

_“No.”_ Bucky shook his head. “You can’t.” Pulling at his dirty, matted hair, he almost started crying. “I don’t deserve to be rescued. I don’t deserve to go home. I can’t. It’s not fair.” He rubbed at his eyes, rid-rimmed and burdened with heavy bags. “I’m a monster, I’m - I’m _evil._ I’m better off here than anywhere else.” Bucky stared down Steve tired, yet resolute. “I’m not leaving, so just….go.”

Steve knelt down in front of him. “Bucky, there is no way I’m leaving you out here, all alone. We’re friends, and friends stick together, right?”

“But I almost KILLED you!”

“Remember the time you walked into my house in the middle of the night? I was hiding at the top of the stairs with a knife and I almost stabbed you because I thought you were a burglar.”

Bucky’s lips twitched briefly before his face dropped, a lone tear slipping down his cheek. “That was different.”

“Buck, you’re not helping.”

“I’m dangerous,” Bucky said. “I can hurt people, kill them. That’s not who I want to be.”

“I know, I know,” Steve said. He put a hand on Bucky’s shoulder. “I’ll help you,” he promised. “You’ll never be alone. We’ll get through this. We’ve gotten through hard times together before; we can do it again.”

Hearing his friend’s sincerity, Bucky smiled. For the first time, he believed it to be true. Perhaps one day, his mind wouldn’t be a prison anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys liked this!!!
> 
> Title taken from _Mind is a Prison_ by Alec Benjamin.


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